June and July Studio Work

Started writing this update in the middle of June. It is one of many unfinished thoughts to which I shall make appendments.

Since the last post in August 2008, a new world order has been established. Alison's loom now occupies a vast majority in the studio. [I'm not entirely convinced by the linguistic validity of the previous sentence, but will allow it.] The space now allocated for painting lends itself to working on a smaller scale. Previously, my concentration focused on the larger works in order to maximise the potential of the studio space. I am somewhat relieved to find that a more manageable scale is the only viable option.

Late in 2008, judges selected painting 163: Do Not Obstruct for the Jerwood Contemporary Painters exhibition. This took place in April/May 2009 at the Jerwood Space in London, and now continues on a whistle-stop world tour to Leeds, Cheltenham and Norwich. Notes I made during frequent trips to the exhibition will appear in the near future.

Despite varied illnesses at the start of this week [month], work in the studio has returned. Smaller works are on the timetable. A planned 18-month schedule designed to produce eight large works by the end of this year has been replaced by a list of nine smaller works for the summer.

To elaborate on the progress of current paintings, three or four are within spitting distance of completion:
145: Telephone Booth, started in November 2008;
151: Altercation in the Main Thoroughfare, started August 2007;
148: Hostilities on the Coastal Perimeter, started September 2007;
149: Skirmish on the Airstrip, started June 2009.

148, 149, and 151 form part of a pentaptych along with 150, and 152 which are yet to begin. At least one other painting is due to commence in August, with several more being considered.

Intention

Having read half a book on the topic of brainular melioration, I am putting several theories into practise. Resultantly, I currently feel more alive and enthusiastic than I have done for some considerable years. This has made for a number of rethoughts on the topic of creative work and its purposes.

On a number of occasions my paintings have been suggested to have an affinity with certain decades of the twentieth century, in Britain. Considering this recently, I put a more specific timeframe on a general period of inspiration - settling on 1920 - 1970. My immediate thought connected with this era is that it almost exactly aligns with the activity of 'Abstract Expressionists', by whom, as a general rule, I have been particularly intrigued over the last ten years. I'm wondering whether my interest in Abstract Expressionism has defined the direction of my work, or if my outlook was preset with an affinity for it. Most likely the answer is a combination of both, though I find it difficult to contemplate a half-chicken/half-egg creature. Unless it's a sort of multi-cellular micro-organism.

The problem I have with Abstract Expressionism, and equally the element I find most compelling, is its American-ness. It is at odds to the 'British' part of the inspiration timeframe mentioned above through a commonly accepted sense of national identity. The sense of 'Britishness' I understand in my paintings is that unease and uncertainty of not knowing whether British culture is defined by its complicated and diverse population, or a notion that everyone in the UK, as defined geographically, should conform to a set of outdated and irrational principles. 'God' save the 'Queen' and 'stiff upper lip' being two examples.

Of course, the paintings don't say this. They're similar to the nonsense that occurs when a text is passed through an online translator into Japanese and then back into English. What happens on the other side is anyone's guess.

Painting is the result of a series of combined untraceable thoughts and actions. The result of painting is an object which causes a series of combined untraceable thoughts and actions which are unlikely to reproduce the original thoughts and actions that resulted in painting. This is not failure, but a cascade of interpretation akin to an atomic bomb. A mushroom cloud of ideas, inspiration and creativity. Even if the creativity is limited to hanging out the washing in a different, perhaps more efficient, way.

So, it is with a renewed sense of purpose that I have put in place an 18 month plan to create at least eight new works and document their construction. The works will be built in pairs and the project is due for completion at the start of January 2010.

February, March, April and May Studio Work

Some several months of vast inactivity on the production front (perhaps that should be inability) lead tastfully to degree show season. My first planned visit is in nine days - yet another return to the University of East London.

In February, four of us returned to East London as ex-students to hold an exhibition entitled 'Back to the Boondocks'. A summary of work compiled over the past 18 months having been abandoned in the wilderness since leaving art school. Three of us partook in a talk with first year students and I was encouraged to hear references to similar ideas throughout all of our work, which I had missed whilst working in my increasingly isolated environment.

March hit hard with an exhibition dismantle and immediate installation at the James Hockey & Foyer Galleries and continued throughout April with the commencement of student shows and fast approaching funding deadlines. I took a couple of journeys to Canterbury at the end of April and beginning of May, which resulted in an increase of thoughts about the importance of journeys having made several intriguing ones recently. At some point I wanted to discuss this with Rule and its relation to his work.

Also in March, Alison and I traveled to 'the coast' for a day and discovered Hurst Castle at the end of a shingle spit. We entered and found it deserted for the most part, taking photos and wandering through military rooms, climbing stairs and enjoying views of the Isle of Wight.



Towards mid-May, an emergence from the hibernation of winter has begun to take shape. Having cleared the studio space, many incomplete works have resurfaced and I have had difficulty deciding on which to focus. I have managed to make progress on 143 (above left), which was helped significantly by the production of a smaller model version, exhibited in 'Back to the Boondocks', and this is perhaps the next of the larger works to continue. My routine has recently developed a block of time at breakfast, during which I have been reading over old notebooks in an attempt not to forget the process that has thus far resulted in the current situation. In addition to perhaps five started-but-unfinished works in the studio, there are also several suggestions from notebooks that I would wish to start in the next few months.

Looking over the notebooks, I am drawn to the possibility of compiling the key elements into one manifesto-like document. This could then be used as an outline record of the journey of choices made in the creation of work.

Alongside the tasks above, much of my current focus is on a series of smaller works with a possible social/historical/record-keeping/geographic flavour. I have mentioned this particular project before in passing, and will elaborate now. Provisionally entitled 'Guerrilla Impressions', the project revolves around the creation of a portable device for creating relief casts of environments. The device will allow impressions of certain intriguing geographical and architectural features to be made and then cast to create physical representations. There's a similarity with photography, though the process will have an emphasis on the tactile as well as the visual. The process of obtaining some impressions may necessitate a form of guerrilla tactics, so the device will need to be light and small enough to transport easily. Once the first device is completed and tested, further improvements can be made for additional experiments.

January Studio Work

As the dust settles on a dismal 2007, the new year begins by stirring it up once again. November and December sped past, and I'm not even sure that they happened, though I'm left with a variety of evidence suggesting they did.

Primary concerns this month were threefold. Firstly was the overdue necessity to build a workbench out of an old fire door salvaged from the gallery, which went very swiftly and successfully. Another priority involved tidying, as certain things had been left lying around since the AF:2012 show. Thirdly was the top priority of continuing to construct work, of which a more detailed account follows.

The disappointment of an incomplete 143 - inspired by a jet engine - has engaged a climate of decisions. Where the casting process had broken down (quite literally - my demoulding was extremely unsuccessful) due to incompetance and a lack of facilities, I am left with a selection of sculptural parts which may form several works. The papier mache mould remains, but in a mangled manner, as pictured above. This will form the basis for the original visualisation of 143. A secondary work will arise from the broken pieces of jesmonite that were cast as a single piece, but are no longer so.

A new work is to begin once preparations are complete. I have constructed a simple mould to facilitate this and cast single flat sheets of plaster or jesmonite, a method which vaguely lends itself to creating more sculptural works. This also relates to a project of works provisionally entitled Guerrilla Impressions, but more on that another time. The envisioned work is to be a metal grid or fence built into the cast plaster sheet, akin to a sort of drain recalled from childhood in Luton.

I'm involved in an Alumni exhibition occurring in the AVA Building, Docklands Campus of University of East London at the end of February. The Private View is reportedly on Wednesday 27 Feb. More details to follow. Come.

Liverpool

Alison and I journeyed to Liverpool the day after AF:2012 opened for a view of the Turner Prize exhibition at Tate Liverpool. Writing now, in the future, I am unable to recall anything of particular interest about it except that it was free admission. The more permanent display suffered from a case of limited diversity whilst attempting to tell the story of the entire history of art. Text panels on certain time periods didn't correlate with works that were supposedly representing and supporting claims made. Something about minimalism being about a lack of colour?

On top of catching the bleak and miserable northwest on a particularly bleak and miserable day, one of the most striking features of Liverpool was the abundance of abandoned and derelict buildings. This was further compounded with the amount of new construction work taking place to prepare for the year of 'culture'. Why build as many new buildings as old buildings that stand unused?

Going to Liverpool has made me appreciate London more.

AF:2012 Opening

The AF2012 Opening was well attended, and populated with a wide range of associates from various phases of life. Clearly, few people enjoy the work if you choose not to talk about it and make some jokes about not wanting to meet various journalists and interested parties. But I didn't talk anyway. Talking about work has concerned me primarily because I don't know where to start, and I'm not entirely sure what I could add to the work as a commentator. The 'themes' make sense to me, but it's unclear how they convert accurately to words, especially in spoken conversation. A written account might offer slightly more time to consider the appropriate words, but is less immediate. It would be helpful to note a list of key words to mention, or perhaps just thematic headings, but equally helpful if they didn't keep evolving. Not that evolution is bad, it's just odd to bring something up and then not mean it and then have everyone say that's what your work is 'about'.

October Studio Work

Continued difficulties on the developments for 143, parts pictured above far right. Having attempted to make a cast and finding it a considerable effort considering my current resources, I have resigned efforts to complete it in time for the AF2012 show. It's a certain impossibility. However, developments in the possibility for an exhibition in the new year mean that I'll continue work, aiming completion for showing then.

A lovely trip to Canonbury Arts in London to obtain further bioresin for 163, pictured centre. This has been a consistent piece in the sense that what was planned is still currently on track, which doesn't happen very often. Quite the opposite is true of 162, above far left. I shall say no more.

I've had several thoughts for developments of work which I shall be pursuing throughout December and January, as the next month is vastly busy and some studio upgrades are required. There will likely be a number of projects that continue beyond this timescale and hopefully be somewhat rewarding.

As a reminder, the AF2012 exhibition I'm in opens at 18.30 on 15 November at the 491 Gallery, Leytonstone, East London, and runs until 29 November.

Frieze and RCA

Frieze is always a rush. Rule and I worked out a schedule for our allotted time which resulted in approximately 1 minute 20 viewing time per stand. Whilst we didn't necessarily stick to this, the availability of four day tickets now makes sense. Rule noticed an abundance of mirrors as this year's theme - something to do with the art world's obsession with itself, possibly. My choice for 'Mirror of the Show' award went to the broken one. Particular highlights involved regular favourite Antoni Tapies and a lovely packaging based painting by Tom Sachs, both pictured above. Both have links between architecture and painting, or a concern with the architecture of painting. Tapies' mixed media style in particular is something of an inspiration to me and his tone has always seemed to be somewhat sombre. There's a possible parallel between his building up and cutting into the painting's surface and my attempts to architecturally extend the painting in that they both move in the direction of sculpture. I say parallel, but as he started working some 60 years before me, I suppose it should be more of an influence.



The reason for visiting the RCA Interim Painting show work by Ellie Stanford. Two of her three pieces were pleasingly sober, including the one pictured above. The bright fluorescent ones have never really appealed to me as much as the more disturbing and bleak. This rule applies generally to most art forms and possibly as a general outlook. Afterwards, Alison, Rule and I took a brief wander around the Albert memorial, which I found to be a delightfully miserable reminder of things that don't exist, and that things which currently exist will at some point cease to exist.

September Studio Work

After the aforementioned miscalculation with the opacity of paint with 162, there was a further risk taken with some 18 month old Bioresin, which worked out alright on the whole, though it's not supposed to work as well after a few months. Some lax mixing (I assume) resulted in an area that had a bizarre reaction. I have now gouged this out and continued with Dove Grey/Almond Cream household gloss as planned. Whilst the brown oblong area wasn't originally intended, it seems to be a welcome addition to the composition.

It still reminds me of not being able to sleep, in that phase between being asleep and awake, possibly watching television and background becoming foreground. It looks less of a bed now, and more of a painting with a pillow set into.

I'll be involved with an exhibition at the 491 Gallery in Leytonstone, East London, 15-29 November, which I shall refer to AF:2012. It relates to the regeneration of East London, especially with the forthcoming 2012 Olympics, and will include Iavor Lubomirov, Jordan Dalladay-Simpson, Sy Hackney, Mark Green and Sara Moubarek. Come.

August Studio Work

Work has started to become slightly messy having settled in and established a working practise within this particular space. A miscalculation with the opacity of some handmade paint caused a more dramatic result than I was aiming for on 162 (above left) and leaves the work a few steps ahead of what was planned to happen. However, I think it has come out quite beautifully and I shall be working on how it might develop. It reminds me of not being able to sleep very well.

Despite living with these paintings, I don't yet find myself involved in a 'relationship' with them. 163 (above right) in particular is not currently taking on much of a personality. It's a little like living with people you don't know very well and who consequently act in ways that are unexpected. This could possibly be a positive - it requires new methods and avoids a reliance on going through the motions.

Recently, I have been considering these paintings, and other as yet unstarted works, in relation to Graphic Design - especially since the Abram Games exhibition came to town. They often emerge from a series of very small drawings or diagrams and develop through a history of experiments. In particular, the paintings involving cellular forms often seem to embody the spirit of logos - simple representations of perhaps emotive states. I have wondered about the benefits of creating visual identity guidelines in conjunction with a statement or manifesto. But also I have wondered why there should be a manifesto if beliefs keep shifting at regular points. Maybe it doesn't matter.

July Studio Work

Throughout July, much spare time has been devoted to experimentation and construction of items to aid the physical process of painting etc. I built some corner devices in order to stack pieces in the working position and be able to work on several at once. Previously, I had used unreliable lengths of wood to similar effect.

Shown above left is the continuing development of 163. I have been enjoying the creation of home-made paint, though have no idea of its longevity. Theoretically it will have the same properties as corporate paint, but with a greater colour strength and depth.

Yesterday, I purchased items in order to facilitate the birth of 143, a work inspired by a Jet Engine. The very early stages of an armature can be seen above right. Meanwhile, 162 continues at a regular pace, having been subjected to a number of coats of varnish.

A Friday in London

Alison and I spend a day in London after deciding to stay at a Travelodge in Ilford. Our first stop is the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, which excitingly contained a paperwork by my former University colleague Iavor Lubomirov. The show is often too crowded to appreciate individual works properly, and very much more like a shop than an exhibition. I'd just like to list what I felt were particular highlights, rather than elaborate, as the aforementioned shopping aspect really detracts from comprehending complex associations.

Ian McKeever (red Assembly Painting)
The names I jotted down were just glimpses of works that I found visually appealing. Ian McKeever seems to be the only one who, on further research, has an inspiring body of work and fascinating publication, In Praise Of Painting. The first part appears to be on the topic of light, a subject which always seems to be in my thoughts somewhere, if not altogether articulated to the point of complete understanding.

Mimmo Paladino
Sandra Blow
John Keane

In a superb Gallery VII:
Giuliano Cardella
Nicholas Carrick
Amanda Welch
Joanna Phelps
Karoly Keseru
Natasha Zavialov

Martin Honert
Wilhelm Mundt
Bill Woodrow
Gary Martin
Tatsuo Miyajima


Later, after being rained on and having lunch, we journeyed to Tate Modern. There's an informative exhibition on the comparisons between some of the world's largest cities, in which it is revealed that London is particularly small in most ways other than making money.
Also at Tate Modern, in the Level 2 Gallery, was Learn to Read, an exhibition surrounding the use of text as a visual device and its subversion - or 'miscommunication and erasure'. The use of text is beginning to seem slightly juvenile to me - a little angsty. It's not as terrible as "I am angry. I am trapped in a box and can not get out", but it leans in that general direction in places. Some of the more mature works floated my fancy, such as Graham Gillmore's 'Vull and Noid' and some by Frances Stark. Shrigley, as always, was another highlight. Photographs annotated by his characteristic felt tip pen.

Private View: Goldsmiths MA Fine Art

As a series of workshops we're running at the Galleries take a day off, our new Nikon D40 is delivered. Ian, Rule and myself take a lunchtime journey to the life drawing room to test it out whilst also having a jolly good time with Ian's tiny remote control helicopter. Results are delightful.

Rule and I return to Goldsmiths for the MA Fine Art Private View. I write now, some few weeks in the future with only very vague memories and a small pile of postcards that don't offer any particular reminders. We may or may not have discussed whether expectations rise when coming to Goldsmiths, which explains the general sense of disappointment. Alternatively, it could've been that bad. Not one to dwell on the downsides, I shall jump in with praise for the few works that tickled my boat.

Harriet Hill's giant felt trumpet tubes and Louise Brierley's oddly abstract paintings of interiors offer the only real ambition. There's a sense that Hill's tubes could either suck you into them, or excrete some awful substance. Brierley's paintings seem to describe space in a way that makes it impossible to imagine, and therefore the paintings are forced to be seen as paintings, instead of representations. Or representations of spaces that can't be imagined. This gives them a sense of power and control over the viewer, more benevolent than anything.

Robb Jamieson dresses up as Rebecca Ann Harris to tell the amusing side of September 11th in video. I'm not usually a big fan of video or performance work, but this was humorous, entertaining and well produced. I think I'd need to see it again before making any in depth comments, though the highlight was the sequence involving Jamieson, as Rebecca, (and another) dressed as the twin towers, flying a remote control plane into himself. Quite possibly a poignant metaphor as well as hilariously memorable. Jamieson seems to have a series of alter-egos committed to video, though I'm yet to see all of them.

Abram Games

We've now put up one of the exhibitions I visited in Wales a few months ago, Abram Games: Maximum Meaning, Minimum Means, in the James Hockey & Foyer Galleries, Farnham Surrey, and it opened on 23 June. If I may quote directly from the website:

"Abram Games (1914-1996) produced many of the most memorable and graphic images in wartime and post war Britain. As well as hundreds of posters Games also produced stamps, book jackets and emblems including those for the Festival of Britain and BBC Television."

Despite a slow start to hanging due to some framing issues and sourcing some sparsely available materials, I think the quality of the finished exhibition is really delightful. Compared to the mess of some previous exhibitions, the whole process has been very smooth, which is extra pleasing as it's practically the first show the current galleries team have effected from start to finish. Still to complete before the announcement of 'a beautiful success': Educational Programme, including typography and poster design workshops, and a couple of expert talks.

Martin Lambie-Nairn (pictured above) said a few well chosen words at the opening and was a superb speaker. He later bought a book from me (at the discount price, of course), along with many other people. A top-notch night for merchandise sales, seeing as we'd expected to sell about £100 worth throughout the 8 weeks of the show, but took £200 at the opening alone.

Degree Shows: London

On Saturday 16 June, Rule and myself ventured to London with hopes of something exciting from either Goldsmiths or the RCA.

The Fine Art/Art History Degree Show at Goldsmiths was delightfully well executed, barring a few disappointments as I'm learning to be the norm whilst these kinds of shows reveal very little about the development of artists or their work. I was relieved to find that Chris Baker's paintings were wonderfully impressive, having previously been disheartened to hear the phrase 'geometric forms'. As discussed with Rule, I think my definition of 'geometric' in this sense may be confused with 'regular'. In essence, I feared the use of masking tape.

Previous wonderings had questioned whether the course of Fine Art with Art History would distract from practical workings whilst theoretical modules took place. However, the combination of practical and theory is present in all Fine Art single Degrees, in some form. The combination at Goldsmiths, I presume, may be slightly more cohesive and useful in providing context for the process of creating work, and I only presume because it seems to translate well to the final show.

The quality of painting exhibited for the Fine-Art-on-its-own Degree show was distressingly terrible. Or it may have been trendy, and therefore 'awesome', but I found it to be disgusting. Rule suggested that Luc Tuymans could be to blame. I'm not inclined to disagree.

Meanwhile, other forms of work were noteworthy, including a particularly delightful use of camera obscura using the vistas from the top of the 'squirly metal building'. Being so put off by the quality of painting in general, I neglected to note the artist's name and really didn't pay much attention to the rest of the show. Rule later assured me that Matthew Lake's shed construction with video and someone else's re-edited version of 'Vertigo' were of a fine calibre.

Lunch was had on the East London line between New Cross Gate and Canada Water, and included a cheese/bacon slice from Sainsbury's, later polished off with a Cornflake Cluster.

Oddly, I'd not been to the RCA before Saturday, so it was a fine treat. Tainted by the disaster of Goldsmith's Fine Art, our mindsets were somewhat negative and it wasn't until later that we realised that some of the work was particularly superb. Rule noted this realisation on the train home, whilst I have only just considered it.

James Ryan's paintings were sufficiently irregular and sombre for my liking, suggesting a landscape slipping into industry, or something similar, and were slightly reminiscent of Callum Innes's work. Simon Cunningham's 'Duck/Rabbit' stands out as a particular highlight, alongside Adam James's decision to condense a passage from the bible, using Microsoft Word's Auto Summarise feature, to two pages of the word 'Lord' repeated incessantly, and Thomas Smith's video of singing pilots. All three artists engender a comic yet gravely sincere and, I suppose, satirical atmosphere. These may well be my favourite qualities to find in an exhibition because they're genuine. There is nothing that is pure; just combinations of factors. In other words, Relational Aesthetics.

Intention

The intention is that paintings are an extension of my outlook, as it may be at the time or as it develops over a period of time. That work seems to be 'inert' is an inviting idea. The structures are large, yet manageable, imposing upon certain spaces, but never aggressive. They exist with very little purpose except that someone desires their existence. They develop as children, if somewhat wooden, or perhaps as trees described like sentient beings in a fairy tale, for instance. Starting as pieces of pre-cut timber, then combined together and slowly acquiring layers of paint and varnish and growing over an extended period of time. Grouping together as a family, or families.

Continued Construction

Quite recently I have continued construction to arrive at a stage where I can begin to reconsider the process of painting. Since previously constructing the support for 163 (shown above on the right) I have managed to put together to a similar stage the beginnings of a work called 162 (shown above left). It will consist of a pillow set into the support and surrounded by layers of off-white/yellow varnish. My pillows tend to go slightly yellow with time. I'm not sure if this is usual or just due to grease and guff rubbing off of my head. The work will look like a bed, I assume, when finished and I'm treating it as a doorway to a space less tangible than a room. I'm trying to consider and assess what happens when the work is moved from the horizontal to vertical, and decide whether it might be important. This is a regular consideration whilst I often paint when the work is flat on the ground. I find myself lacking the appropriate language, theory and group dynamic to be able to make confident choices on such matters, and wonder whether this will lend some element of vulnerability to the work, which would seem useful or appropriate, or essentially lead it to become weak and pointless. I'm happy to rely on the language of painting and process previously explored, and continue to engage with a sense of the repetitive. The repetition brings comfort, which may eventually lead to confidence. At some point, at a juncture lending itself to stagnation, I will read back over some old journals and sketchbooks to gain a perspective on my journey to this point. As I recall, it involved much repeated changing of opinions and so far seems to continue.

Construction

The weekend has been spent on some productive construction activity. After a disastrous bout of unconvincing customer service at Homebase on Friday (who, as a result, I shall not be using again), Saturday was spent laying the groundwork to my first work of note since leaving University approximately twelve months ago. Today, the supports have been completed to the standard pictured above and will require some kind of sealing before its inaugural coat of paint.

This latest painting is numbered 163, titled 'Do Not Obstruct', and is intended to be a 'return' to the cellular structures that had been previously explored. I'm aiming for a dark vibrant red cell in off-white/yellowed surroundings, but there are no guarantees of the future. Hopefully, it'll contain a hint of humour, but in a deadpan Paul Merton style. I once saw Paul Merton taking a tour of Tate Modern. He's very tall.

Degree Shows: RCA Sculpture, Slade BA

Our recent visit to London took in vaguely work-related tours of the RCA Sculpture Show and the Slade BA Fine Art show. Immediate impressions of both, but especially the RCA, incorporated a vast sense of ambition. I'd like to equate this sense to my impression of reality through spoken languages that have limited names for colours. Or not entirely this, but coming to notice the subtle differences between Universities, and understanding what seems like varying student attitudes. Essentially, I'd not noticed the differences between resultant exhibitions from different Universities until this point.

Particular highlights included, from the Slade, painting by Michael Armitage, Gemma Nelson and (for Rule) video work by Jack Strange. At the RCA Sculpture Show, Rule was particularly enamoured with odd kinetic/video/light based deals by Daniel Pasteiner, whilst I plumped for the carefully constructed painted brick spheres by Thomas Winstanley. Also can't ignore (literally) Jodie Carey's 'Untitled (Monument)', a giant wedding cake constructed from cast bones.

Process

"It's a moot point whether the act of making or the photographic record of it is the true "work". "
Guardian Arts

The nature of the conflict between the act of creation and the creation itself is seemingly somewhat overlooked in my experience. Questioning the importance of process over that of production was picked up at College during critique sessions in which fellow students seemed disinterested whilst I claimed that the finished work doesn't matter as much as making it. This ideal stuck unhindered until the point when I realised that the works I had completed held weight for me visually. It's worth the possibility of debate to dredge it up to be considered once again.

A painting is an artwork completed to communicate some aspect or combination of ideas, situations or moods. However, the artistic satisfaction comes from the act of creating the work, and its validity is decided by the individual participant through a period of consideration inspired by the visual connotations of the work itself. In these areas, the process forms an experience of the work, for which the work is a catalyst. The work cannot exist without the actions required to make it, and it is reduced without the experience of its participation. The experiences and processes can and do exist without the necessity for an artwork, and therefore the process is of more importance than the physical outcome.

* * *

A small portion of today has resulted in becoming aware of how often I switch off at the mention of certain references. For instance, throughout University I completely ignored anything said about Duchamps or Beuys simply because it happened so often. Today's realisation of this was caused by reading Matthew Collings in Modern Painters (June 2007) considering an essay he's writing:

"It's about Picasso in the early 1960s dissecting his own art, redoing the same format in endless repetitions as if he's asking what painting is and coming up with repetition itself as the answer. Process is the point. Perpetual agitation is the mood. There is no culminating work preceded by a series of studies, just the studies. Every picture... is the work."

I realise that I'm expecting myself to elaborate on these points but, having nothing more informative to note than that I find them inspiring, I won't. The emphasis I wanted to make was on ignoring things when they might come as some use in attempting to clarify any desired objectives in the field of painting. Perhaps it's just that Collings has a viewpoint that doesn't just reiterate everything I've ignored in the past.

The process of creating work has become, or is becoming, a series of realisations on the considerations of others. It could be possible to construct a practise from curating and editing ideas already realised by those others.